


the vastness is bearable (only through love)

by the_jarchivist



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: (...A twist!), (canon compliant) stalking, (more tags to come as the story progresses), BDSM, Dom Martin, Dom/sub, M/M, Not Beta Read, Professional Dom Martin, Sub Jon, kink negotation, misuse of archivist powers (but accidentally!), set in season 2
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:00:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25325035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_jarchivist/pseuds/the_jarchivist
Summary: To anyone who bothered to ask, Jon would say that he was doingJust fine, thank you.To anyone who bothered to look at Jon for much longer than a passing glance, it would become immediately clear that he is doing much, much worse than “just fine”.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 23
Kudos: 159





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I had this idea, I could not stop thinking about this idea, and now it is in the process of being written. Honestly, I wanted to post it in an effort to get myself to actually keep writing this fic. I hope people like it, I have at least a few chapters solidly planned out and then more in a vague sense. Also friendly reminder that this is like, not at all something you should do at work. Please never actually stalk your coworkers in real life. Or approach them about vaguely sex-work related websites you might have found. I can't imagine this going as well as it did for Jon in like, real life. I'm sure most know this but it was really bothering me the entire time that I was writing it.  
> Hope you enjoy otherwise, though.

To anyone who bothered to ask, Jon would say that he was doing _Just fine, thank you._ To anyone who bothered to look at Jon for much longer than a passing glance, it would become immediately clear that he is doing much, much worse than “just fine”.

If pushed on the matter, Jon might argue that his reactions are a very normal response to discovering that his predecessor was shot - murdered - in their workplace. Murdered most likely by someone who worked with her, someone who is still around right now. Someone who has not been caught. 

While he has caught onto the passive remarks of _“You know Jon, you should really consider seeing a therapist”_ , a workplace murder seems beyond the scope of many typical therapists. Plus, he doesn’t have the time, what with his need to discover who had actually done the murder. And, the most important fact, that he is doing _just fine, thank you._

Burying himself in his work ends up being quite the fine distraction from, well, the cold-blooded terror threatening to course through him if he thinks about what is happening for longer than a few seconds. He hardly finds the time to breathe, let alone do much else, and while he can feel his body struggling to keep up with this workload he has forced onto himself - far beyond the already excessive amount of work he used to do, he doesn’t let up.

He is always able to find something else to do to keep himself busy. Recording statements was, and still is, a significant part of his job, and then he occasionally decides to reorganize the filing cabinets in his office, reorganize the shelves in his office, and then in one memorable occasion, attempting to organize artifact storage. 

(The last one goes, well, less than ideally.)

And, well, if he hasn’t left the Archives in nearly a month, choosing to sleep on the cot that Martin has since abandoned in favor of a new flat ( _It’s new construction, too! Double checked with them that there weren’t any reports of insects or spiders from anyone nearby. Seems good._ Jon overheard Martin telling Sasha and Tim one day), then it is simply a sign of him truly delving into his work and not, well, anything more serious.

He starts to get paranoid, though. He was paranoid from the beginning, but he had hopes, believed so desperately that the tapes that Basira was giving to him might uncover the secret. Might tell him who the murderer was. Hopes that by traversing through the tunnels at night he might be able to uncover the secret. Hopes that if he waits long enough, the police will have an answer for him, neat and tidy enough that he can accept and move on with his life and not live in constant fear, all the time.

It doesn’t happen though. The police case drags on and the tapes are as cryptic as always and Jon, well, Jon doesn’t know if he sees another answer. Starts doubting the people around him, _any of the could be the murderers, after all,_ and decides that he is going to be the one to crack the case, if no one else was going to do it for him.

It should be fine, shouldn’t be much of an issue. He would look into the top suspects - Tim, Sasha, Martin, Elias. See if he could find anything, find some hints of an alibi for why they would certainly not be the ones to have killed Gertude. He will just go looking long enough to find something to put his mind at ease, and then he would stop. 

There was nothing that could possibly go wrong.

His discoveries are often lacking, Jon has of course never been trained in the field of espionage and was admittedly perhaps not ever the best at secrecy to begin with. Searching through Tim’s desk one evening shows nothing of note, just a few pads of paper with cute messages written in them, a few loose files, but nothing incriminating. Jon’s not entirely sure what he’s looking for, a gun, perhaps? A note that details the murder of Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist? 

His efforts are hardly enough to gain him more than a slightly less restless nights sleep that evening, and another few days of looking through Tim’s belongings and searching through the internet for any mention of Timothy Stoker finds, well, nothing of note. It is just incredibly normal. The only mentions of him are old university society pages that have his name on them. He didn’t even seem to be engaged in anything particularly out of the ordinary, just the normal societies and organizations that most uni students participate in.

Jon ends up having to move onto another suspect after one morning, Tim arrives to his desk, noticing the photos and papers that have slightly been moved around by Jon, too careless in the hours of the morning, running on too few hours of sleep, and turns, pieces Jon with a far too intense gaze and remarks, cavalierly, “Oh, wow, must have left my desk in far more of a state of disarray than I remember!” 

Jon simply mutters something about how “yes, that must be it”, before leaving the room and locking himself away with statements or files before Tim could make this into an entire confrontation.

He moves to Sasha next, but looking through her desk presents, well, no information. It is shockingly barren, the drawers strangely empty. He notes a photo of her hugging her boyfriend, who does appear to be more out of a stock image than a real person. It is not anything… too suspicious, though, and he ultimately stops looking. Every time he thinks too hard about her past he ends up getting a headache anyway, and he gets quite enough of those already without that to add to it.

It just leaves Martin, then, as the next suspect. Or Elias, but Jon isn’t quite sure why, but every time he tries to dig a bit deeper into Elias’ history he ends up inexplicably moving onto another topic, simply getting distracted whenever he tries.

Martin’s desk proves to be similarly unfruitful as the other two. No obviously placed weapons, or murder schemes. His desk drawers have a few loose bags of tea in them, some notes, and a slightly alarmingly stocked first aid bag, but nothing… too concerning (and Jon makes a slight mental note to perhaps keep a first aid bag at his desk as well, never know what might happen).

It’s been about a month and a half since the incident, as Jon and Sasha and Martin are fond of calling it, and Jon still has not come closer to finding… well, anything about who might have done it. He has not been murdered, he figures, but it could still come.

All he is, is exhausted, anxious, and incredibly desperate.

He figures some might take the lack of discoveries as a sign, perhaps, that there was no foul play. That his coworkers are safe, aren’t out to hurt him. But then, how many others can say they have been in this situation before.

Jon just figures he hasn’t looked enough, hasn’t spent enough time searching, and realizes that he had forgotten to scour through the internet for Martin. Forgot, in the flood of statement givers who seemed to arrive, and gotten distracted enough by Martin’s letter that he found claiming he had a secret (though ultimately an incredibly mundane one). 

He is, at this point, maybe slightly more trusting of Martin. The extent to which Martin was ready to leave just after this one discovery was enough, in an odd way, to ever so slightly convince Jon that maybe Martin didn’t have anything to do with what was happening.

It wouldn’t hurt to do some more digging, though. And once Jon had it in his head that he hadn’t looked, well, it wouldn’t really leave him alone.

He’s alone, in his office, again. There is no one in the Archives, no one in the entire institute to begin with, as it is the early hours of the morning. When he last checked, it was roughly 2am, but Jon would figure that it’s been some time since then.

He is done with the statements for the day, he has been going through them at record pace as an effort to avoid doing practically anything else (though his skin still squirms when he recalls Elias’ pleased smirk when he noticed). And he figures that he might as well do this tonight, as, well, why not.

Jon is not bad at his job. He would be the first to say that Sasha deserved the head archivist position more than he was, but he certainly was not lacking as a researcher. There is a reason he’s gotten this far, and has had quite the history in the field. It is something he enjoys doing, generally, and something he is frankly, quite good at. 

He starts picking through the information on Martin, slowly but surely. Gets his full name, his birthday, the schools he attended. He starts going through them, methodically and carefully. Checking records in his hometown, checking the school records. Looks into the university Martin attended, checks out the societies that used to name him on his roster. There is ultimately very little information out about him.

Certainly nothing particularly incriminating, at the very least.

He is nearly done for the evening, and surprisingly feels the slightest bit relaxed at the turn of events. As though for once, this lack of information was actually reassuring, rather than clear evidence he just wasn’t looking hard enough. Jon figures that he’ll just do another quick google search, see if he can pick up any new information, and call it a night.

In the end, he is grateful that he didn’t find anything more sinister. That he didn’t find some hidden website that Martin keeps about his favorite murder weapons stores. And as soon as he clicks the link, he feels deeply ashamed. Not… quite enough to regret his snooping, his aggressive digging into his coworkers lives but, well. It is most certainly not something that Martin would likely ever want Jon to know about, especially not like this.

It seemed like an innocuous website, and that was what ultimately stood out to him. Most of the search results had the words “Martin” or “Blackwood” bolded, indicating that they appeared somewhere in the website itself. This… did not. It was a little thing, but something inside Jon made him just curious enough to click the link.

The website was clean, simple black text against a white background with a header image of what looked like a slightly darker than average bedroom. He wasn’t quite sure what he was looking at for a bit - before finally reading the text advertising sessions with a “M.K.B, Professional Dominant”. 

It was oddly intriguing though Jon was still not quite sure why this result came up in the search query, initials not connecting in his head. Before he could stop himself Jon found himself clicking on the “About” section, and felt his mouth slightly drop open as the photo on the page loaded, because this was. Well, this was _Martin_. Standing there, smiling kindly, looking a few years younger but not much. 

The text on the page listed some experience that Jon skimmed through, picking out phrases like “rope work” or “roleplay” and “bondage” before it suddenly became far too much for him to be looking at and he instantly closed the page.

It wasn’t as though Jon had something against sex workers. He respected their profession even though he never had particularly interested in their services. It was just that this felt… different. It was one thing that it was Martin there, smiling and looking so confident in the photo. But even just the idea of… well, whatever it was that the website was offering, seemed so enticing.

Of course, Jon was not innocent, had spent enough time on the internet to know what BDSM is, to know enough that he was vaguely interested in it. He and Georgie had tried it out, once, after she got a flogger as a joke gift from a Christmas party they had attended one year. It was nice, but she was not interested, and they moved on. 

It was still something that lingered in the back of Jon’s mind though. Especially on days that were too much, and he just longed for someone to take the control from him. And especially now, after this… discovery.

Jon couldn’t help himself from going back to the website a few times since he found it. It was in a way a pleasant reprieve from his normal concerns. Something somewhat more normal that he could worry himself with.

He found himself clicking back to the website again one evening, long after everyone had gone home, unable to resist the pull of his curiosity. He clicked off quickly, the first time. Hadn’t had a chance to read what the website was saying, and well, he was very curious.

The other pages on the website were similar to the about page - all black text printed on a white background with occasional bullet pointed lists when necessary. A segment listed prices, which Jon felt himself raise his eyebrows at - an hour cost nearly £300. It was a lot, but, Jon figured, the type of experience perhaps was worth it.

There were other slightly corny chunks of text that Jon would stumble upon as he was scrolling through - references to “letting go” and what not making Jon chuckle slightly, though he had to admit just the idea brought the slightest flush to his cheeks. 

It was all horribly enticing. 

He finally builds up the courage to click on the segment to schedule an appointment after a couple more nights where he’d go back to the website, desperately trying to will himself to click on it. He isn’t planning on applying, of course not. The website itself hadn’t been updated in nearly 3 years, it seemed like, and regardless it would be, at the very least, horribly unprofessional.

He is just curious, is all.

Clicking on the link to register for an appointment brings him to a multiple page form. The first few pages are simple, basic questions that Jon fills in with nonsense information, lest he accidentally press to submit it. Just things like name, pronouns, age, medical conditions, previous BDSM experience. 

Towards the end though, there are a couple more questions that were slightly more interesting. A question about “the best book you have ever read”, another one asking “how do you like your tea”, which makes Jon smile. The questions seem random, unimportant, but Jon figures they create some level of intimacy. Make this experience slightly less with a stranger. Plus, he figures, it might be a good way to weed out the people who aren’t truly that interested.

The most intriguing is a link to a PDF copy of a kink guide list. It is nearly 5 pages long, filled with many kinks that Jon has heard of but then so many more that he has not. There are 6 columns, ranging from “hate/hard limit” to “important/must have”, and another column for “unsure”. The form specifies that this is not something that the person needs to fill out, but that is sometimes useful to have some sense of what kinks exist, of what kinds of things to ask for.

The form - Martin, he supposes, makes it very clear that they will be doing negotiation once meeting in person, that filling out the form is a preliminary screening, and that they would discuss what is going to happen once they meet.

He doesn’t fill it out. Of course not, but Jon finds himself pondering the answer to the questions on the form a few days later, and then beyond that he finds himself downloading the PDF, skimming through the list of kinks. It is, quite frankly, somewhat overwhelming. 

It isn’t as though he is new to the world of kink either, but sitting down in front of a list is, well, rather overwhelming. He spends about 10 minutes mentally checking things into various boxes before giving up, the vast amount of options becoming too much.

Jon isn’t able to forget about it, though. Not about the website, not about the questions, and most importantly, not about the fact that it is Martin who is the center of all of it. He knows he is more curious than he should be, so curious he is almost tempted to throw caution into the wind and just... ask Martin about it at the next chance he gets.

He doesn’t, though. He is a professional, is technically Martin’s boss, though much could be said about his professionalism these days. Jon was willing to let himself forgive stalking his coworkers, but apparently asking Martin about this discovery was where he’s drawing the line.

He can’t stop thinking about it. It’s beginning to affect his work performance as well - or at the very least affect his ability to interact with Martin. Jon finds himself unable to spend more than a few minutes in the same room as him, finds himself snapping at Martin more than usual for even smaller things than he usually would. 

It’s not much of an issue, right away. The tape recordings keep coming from Basira and Jon busies himself with that. It’s a bit of a blessing, in an odd way. Being unable to stop thinking about Martin’s professional domming career ended up being far less likely to keep him up at night than being convinced that Martin was secretly out to murder him. 

It comes to a head in another couple weeks. Jon spends those weeks continuously pushing Martin away, holed up in his office, unable to face him, in fear of accidentally spilling what he’s seen. They end up getting some CCTV footage, though. And when Jon sees it, sees the alibis that all his coworkers have, showing them doing _something_ in the institute other than, well, murdering Gertrude, Jon feels himself breathe a sigh of relief he didn’t know he was holding.

It’s not easy, at first. He can’t help but feel as though the recordings could be faked, feels as though there is something ever so slightly wrong with it, but he can’t figure out how, and the police aren’t letting him continue watching it on repeat. And in the end, Jon is just so very, very tired.

He lets himself go, then. Lets himself believe that his coworkers, that specifically Tim, Martin, and Sasha are safe, that they are not trying to hurt him. That they are not going to kill him. It is not easy, but he feels himself slowly starting to begin trusting them again.

It is one night, late and quickly approaching midnight in the Institute. It’s better now, Jon is able to sleep longer, but he finds himself still staying later than he normally would. There is still a mystery he feels like he needs to uncover and he always has more statements to record.

He has just finished tidying up after recording a statement when he hears a knock on his office door. It startles him, hitting his knee against the table as he jumps in response to the noise. The door creaks open slightly and Martin peaks his head in, and Jon feels himself relax somewhat.

“Oh, hello Martin. I didn’t… expect you here so late”

Martin smiles ever so slightly, though it seems somewhat more like a grimace, and the door opens more fully as he steps into the room, closing the door behind him once he’s in.

“Ah, well, you know. Bit hard to sleep nowadays, I’m sure you understand,” he says as he walks towards Jon’s desk. Jon finds himself rubbing at his injured knee slightly, but otherwise leans back in his chair as Martin approaches, pulling out the chair in front of his desk and sitting down. 

“Yes, I do. Is there something you need, Martin. I’m quite busy.” 

Martin seems to sigh slightly at this, and he looks down slightly before speaking.

“Yeah, I wanted to talk to you about something. I - well,” he pauses, leg beginning to shake under the table, “have I done something wrong?” 

The words come out in one breath, slightly rushed, and he looks up to Jon, brow furrowed, eyes almost accusatory, while still hesitant.

“I - what?” Jon replies.

“Like, alright. I know that I’m not the best researcher and everything but, well, I’ve noticed you being a bit colder than usual. And like, I don’t - I mean, you’re not required to like me, I know. But, it just feels a bit… unnecessary. Or maybe not! I mean, maybe I’ve done something wrong. Which is why I’m here, I wanted to ask if I had, I suppose.” Martin says, and as he finishes he looks back down again slightly, unable to meet Jon’s eyes. 

This is - well, this is not a situation that Jon particularly wanted to be in, if he had any choice in the matter. Having Martin sat in front of him, anxiously awaiting Jon to… yell at him about something, he guesses. Jon tries to think quickly as the silence stretches on, empty air filling the room. Tries to come up with something to say, something to alleviate the situation.

Well, he has never been particularly good at lying, after all.

It’s of course not the best solution, though Jon would be hard pressed to find a better one. This whole situation is bad, and in the end, Jon figures that he can’t stop thinking about it, the thoughts racing in his head all the time and that if he doesn’t even try to ask Martin, then, well.

Might as well just rip the bandaid off.

“I -” Jon starts, attempting to say this while looking at Martin, though it is too hard and his gaze shifts to the wall behind him, staring at the closed door. Maybe he could just… leave, right now. Leave and never come back, and avoid this incredibly awkward conversation he is about to have.

“I might have - I was scared, alright? I was nervous and I- I was just looking for some information, it wasn’t - I didn’t intend to find it, I didn’t go looking for it” he feels himself stammering around the topic, unable to just get the words to form, to say it outloud makes it all the more real. 

Martin at this point looks more confused than upset, brow slightly furrowed though as Jon talks he notices Martin becoming ever so slightly more concerned.

“Jon what exactly did you find?”

And Martin of course has no compulsion powers, no way of ripping the answer out of him but such a direct question is hard to avoid and by this point, well, Jon is just tired of hiding and he is so very curious.

“I - I think I found your old… website. Your… professional… dominant website” the words feel as though they are being pulled out of him, and as he speaks he feels himself flush, inevitably his cheeks growing ever darker. He is only able to keep staring at the wall through pure willpower at this point, and can’t help but notice out of the corner of his eyes that Martin has gone entirely read, mouth slightly agape as he finishes speaking.

“Oh. Oh! Oh. Alright. That’s-. Wow, I’m sorry, I didn’t think - well, I didn’t ever have my name on it but I should have known, I suppose.” he laughs a little, mirthlessly, “dunno why I didn’t delete it before I joined a research team. If anyone had the means to find it, I suppose it would have been researchers.” 

At this point, Jon is just shocked that Martin hasn’t started throwing things at him, yelling about a breach of privacy or looking into his past. Martin just looks… ashamed, and nervous. It is admittedly not quite the reaction he expected.

Martin rambles on a bit longer as Jon is stuck in his own head but he snaps back when he hears something about

“I’ll hand in my resignation tomorrow, of course. I understand this must be very uncomfortable for you and -”

“Martin, what are you talking about?” Jon says, glancing back to Martin. 

“I just - I just thought that’s what you wanted? Why you called me in here? Clearly I should have been more careful but I understand if you don’t want to work with me.” Martin’s face is steeled in a way that Jon can’t remember seeing before, aside from maybe when he had returned from the week he spent trapped in his flat. He looks… scared.

“Oh. I -, no, I was not going to fire you about this. At the very least I should be the one apologizing, it was not my intention to find out this information about you, and I am sorry for how I behaved these past couple weeks.” 

“I… see. It’s alright, Jon. I understand. I mean, I’m not exactly happy that you found this but. I guess I’m rather glad that I still have my job” Martin chuckles slightly towards the end of the sentence, but it is a dry laugh, devoid of any actual humor. He begins to stand up right as Jon opens his mouth to speak.

“I’m - I have to admit. I’m a little bit… interested. In what you did. I was… curious.” and once the words are out of his mouth he feels his face reignite with heat, flushing again. Confident that Martin is about to stand up and leave his office. Jon has never been one to really pay much attention to HR or workplace conduct, especially not since his job in the Institute but even he knows that this is most certainly crossing a line.

Surprisingly though, Martin settles back down in the chair. He looks… still nervous, shoulders still slightly drawn up but a little less than he had before. 

“Oh? What exactly were you interested in, Jon? I can give you some information to read, if you’d like?” Martin says, the barest hint of a smile playing at his lips. Jon steels himself in response, surely figuring that if he is able to get out of this alive then he might just be able to survive whatever assassination attempt someone might be trying to do to him. 

“I…” he takes a breath before continuing. He is half tempted to drop the conversation now but he has gone this far, and how much worse can this truly get? “I was hoping that you might… be able to show me? Possibly?” 

Martin’s eyebrows raise at this slightly, but he doesn’t say anything at first so Jon just continues, “I mean, I don’t… of course you don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to, I don’t want to be pressuring you I was just… curious about this, and I trust you, and it seemed a lot safer than finding a stranger or someone I didn’t know, and I don’t know how much more I’d be able to read about it, I’ve done some research already but I -”

“Yeah, alright, Jon.” Martin cuts him off, voice soft, his body relaxed almost entirely at this point. “I can… show you some things. I think it might be best if we discuss this some more another time, though? Give you - give both of us, really - some time to think it over. I… this isn’t something you want to be rushing head into.” 

Jon nods along, relief coursing through him as his brain repeats over and over again that Martin is… willing to do this. That he didn’t just laugh Jon out of the room.

“We could meet up for dinner, maybe? Perhaps a few days from now, maybe Thursday? Just to - I don’t like doing negotiations in public, too many possible instances of people overhearing, but just to talk. I think, well, it might be best for us to get a little bit closer, before doing anything. I mean, you were convinced I was out to murder you not too long ago. And this relies on trust, more than anything. If it goes well, we can see where this goes from there.”

It sounds remarkably like a date, Jon thinks. Which is… well, not necessarily something he would be against, it’s not as though Martin is a horrible person or anything but it’s not exactly what Jon had been envisioning when he asked Martin this. Martin seems to have the same thought a moment later though, as he continues quickly, 

“Oh, sorry I realize - I don’t mean this - this doesn’t have to be a date, yeah? I didn’t intend it like that, of course. I just thought, well, it could be good to get a little closer. Outside of work. Plus,” Martin smirks, slightly, “I’m not really even sure if you’ve eaten a full meal these days. Could do you wonders to get some actual food in you.”

Jon relaxes slightly at this, and if he feels something resembling a pang of disappointment go through him, then no one needs to know. He nods along in agreement, and they settle on meeting for dinner in an Indian restaurant nearby, the name of which Jon has never heard of, despite working in the same spot for nearly 5 years at this point. They agree that they’ll go at 7, a reasonable time for dinner for anyone but Jon, and that they’ll meet in the archives before they go. 

When they finish talking, Martin stands up to leave, but he turns around before he exits the door.

“Oh, one last thing Jon. I’m not sure - you may have seen this already, but I’ll send you a document, it’s got a list of kinks on there, for you to look at. I don’t - please don’t feel like you need to fill it out, it’s just something to get your mind thinking. Something so we have a baseline to discuss. I find it can make it a little easier, at times. But I would like you to do that before Thursday, if you’re able to.” 

Jon simply nods in agreement, slightly glad he’s looked at the file already, as there is some possibility of him ending up not being able to find the time to look at it before Thursday, and he would hate to end up disappointing Martin so early. Especially after he is doing quite the favor for Jon.

Martin leaves, after that, and Jon is alone with his thoughts in his office. He glances at the clock on his laptop, finding it to be nearly 11pm. They had talked for much longer than he expected. And it’s still only Monday, he has to wait another 3 days before anything else was to happen. Jon lets his head hit the table, now that the anxiety of the conversation has passed, he just feels tired, with the vaguest hints of anticipation.

It is going to be a long couple days. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> man this took much longer to write than i expected. turns out having a "job" means that people expect you to do "your work" during the week. i mean, how rude, right?  
> also, as someone who traditionally most definitely does Not write dialogue in their fics, like, ever, suddenly going "oh im going to write an entire kink negotiation scene that is nothing but talking" was, shockingly, a bit challenging! I think it turned out okay in the end, though, and hope you all enjoy!!  
> (also reading all the comments genuinely make my day, thank you! :D)

While Jon expects the next few days to pass slowly, he ends up getting buried under enough work that before he realizes it, it’s already Thursday, and Jon swears under his breath when he checks the time, already nearly 7:30.

It wasn’t his intention to be late, it was just that he got caught up in recording a statement and they’re so easy to get lost in, these days. Even worse, as he finishes wrapping up the statement he feels his stomach growl, and realizes suddenly that he had essentially forgotten to eat at all today, aside from the tea Martin had brought earlier and a couple of biscuits from the break room when he got up. 

He finishes putting away the files in the storage cabinet and jumps as he turns around to face the rest of the room - finding Martin sitting on one of the old chairs in his office, doing something on his phone.

“Oh! Martin! What are you doing here?” He asks, before immediately regretting saying anything. Of course Martin was here, they had _plans,_ where else would he be? They agreed on a time and it is now far later and,well, it’s surprising enough that Martin hasn’t just given up entirely.

“Oh, hey Jon! I was just waiting for you to finish,” Martin responds, looking up from his phone. 

“I hope you didn’t wait too long. I’m - I didn’t expect to run over, I didn’t mean to make you wait.”

“Oh, no it’s alright! I may have kind of… expected this. Figured expecting to leave at 7 would give us some leeway. It’s not a problem! Are you ready to go now, though?” Martin asks, stuffing his phone back in his pocket and standing up. 

“Yes, just let me get my stuff and we can go.” Jon finishes packing away some loose file information and sticks his laptop back into his bag, leaving a few notes for himself for the following morning. The recorders seem to be all turned off, for now, and the rest of the room is in the same state of disarray as it usually is. 

Martin is leaning against the doorframe, passively watching Jon as he throws on his coat and slings his backpack over his shoulder. He grants Jon a soft smile as Jon approaches and then they begin to leave the institute, door clicking closed behind them.

The walk to the restaurant is relatively quiet, though Martin makes an effort to point out key landmarks they pass by, including some that Jon most certainly is aware of, as he is not fully unperceptive to the world around him (“Yes, Martin. I know what the Thames is.” “I just wanted to check! You never know, Jon.”). He follows Martin down a series of vaguely winding sideroads from the Institute, the distance to the restaurant being close enough to not warrant a tube ride. 

Finally they reach it. The restaurant is vaguely unassuming, the name written in white cursive on the window, little other indication of the restaurant otherwise. The food smells good, even from outside, and Jon can hear some murmurs of conversation spilling out as Martin opens the door. They head on inside, get seated to what seems like a perfect table for the occasion - tucked away in the back corner of the restaurant, as far away from prying ears as possible.

Jon knows that they’re not going to discuss anything particularly scandalous, but he feels better nonetheless about being granted a bit of privacy. After all, it’s been quite long since he’s even… gone and had dinner with someone. It feels oddly intimate.

They’re relatively silent as they pick out what food they want to order, with only occasional snippets of conversation as Martin informs Jon on what some of the better options are. It takes them a few minutes, but eventually both decide, and the waiter leaves taking their menus, and they are, at least somewhat, alone.

Jon can’t help but think about how this is perhaps the first time he’s bothered to talk to Martin alone, without Tim and Sasha or the backdrop of the archives. Without some deeper goal. It feels oddly momentous, though he isn’t quite sure why. Feels, understandably, as though he is perhaps putting a little bit too much weight on this dinner.

Martin is the first one to break the silence, in the end. Asks Jon a frivolous question about his opinions about Keats, which Jon quite briskly expresses his opinion on. He has a moment where he feels almost bad, at first, at being a bit rude. But Martin just laughs at his comments and teases Jon right back about some of the things he says, and it almost feels… fun.

The food arrives and as they eat Jon finds himself relaxing slightly into the banter they’ve developed. Martin asks about the books Jon’s been reading and he shares; rants about the adaptations of some plays he’s heard about, ones that completely miss the point of the story, at least in his mind.

They loop around to talking about the Institute, eventually. It’s a shared interest for the two of them, though Jon vaguely notices Martin’s gentle dissuading from any of the heavier topics. Instead, Jon tells the story of a computer he found down there, which apparently left one of the archival staff writing in sentences from Wikipedia until she was finally able to get free. Martin laughs at it, Jon smiles, and it feels… well, normal. In a way that Jon’s life hasn’t felt in far too long.

By the time they leave, Jon’s cheeks nearly hurt from all the laughter - something he hasn’t felt in quite some time now, and notices that as they walk out the door into the brisk London night, Martin stands just a little bit closer to him, acts a little bit more relaxed than he had been.

“So, uh, not to make this too formal, I guess, but I think that was good, right? I had a nice time, and I was wondering, well, if you wanted to come back to my flat, then? It’s still… early. Of course, I don’t want to pressure you, we don’t have to - we can wait if you want or I mean if you don’t want to -”

Jon smiles, a little. It was nice, in a way, to see Martin be as flustered as he feels. Nice to know that he is not alone in being perhaps a bit nervous.

“Oh, yes, that’s fine. We can go back to your flat, I mean. I… had a nice time, Martin.” Martin looks relieved at this, and they begin to walk to the nearest tube station, Martin leading the way back to his house. 

It’s nice, Jon notices as they walk how Martin stays close to him, not quite holding hands but their shoulders brushing. He notices how Martin presses slightly against him as they sit on the tube together, companionable silence following them as they travel. It’s nice, in a way Jon would not have imagined this evening to go.

They reach Martin’s flat, Martin fumbling a bit with the keys as they enter. He flicks the lights on in the hallway and it looks, well, rather normal, all things considered. Another point for “not a murderer”, then. There’s a small bedroom Jon can see off to one side, partially obscured through the doorway. A couple more closed doors and an archway leading to a living room and kitchen. The living room is nice, spacious, a comfortable looking couch resting against the back wall. The room is dark, for the moment, with the only light streaming in from the hallway and the streetlamps outside. 

Martin motions to the shoe mat by the door, and Jon toes off his shoes, hangs up his coat on the hooks by the door, and follows Martin into the living room, brighter now with the lights on.

“Would you like any tea?” Martin asks, and Jon nods, moves towards the couch to sit down as he waits. He is unsure of what is going to happen, and his back is ridgid against the soft cushion, just barely stopping himself from holding his breath in anticipation. He stares out the window and sits there, patiently, as he listens to the sounds of cups clinking in the kitchen as Martin moves around making tea.

“I - I noticed you asked about that? On the form you gave?” Jon asks, the words out before he has any chance to think about them, to hesitate about letting Martin know exactly to what extent he had looked.

“Oh the… oh! Oh yeah, I did. I figured it was a nice way of getting to know people who I might be seeing, and, well, tea tends to be a comforting drink. Plus,” Martin finishes making the tea, and Jon sees from the corner of his eyes as he begins making his way towards the living room carrying two steaming mugs. “It made a decent gauge into personality. If someone thought they were too good to answer a question about tea, then, well, I didn’t have much interest in seeing them anyway.” 

He sets the tea down on the coffee table in front of them, and Jon turns to look at him now, meeting his eyes. Martin smiles, slightly,

“But you were really looking at the website, then? You looked at the form and everything, huh? Well, I’m glad it came up the way it did, at least. Not sure if I could have handled getting an email from someone filling out my old, discontinued form, by the name of Jonathan Sims.” 

He laughs, at the end, and Jon feels himself chuckle slightly in response. He reaches over and grabs the warm cup of tea in his hands, feeling the warmth seep through him and encouraging him to relax, even just a bit. 

There’s another beat of silence as they both sip on their tea, before Martin clears his throat and begins speaking again.

“So, right, I - well, I gave you that list? Though, hah, if you’ve seen the form I imagine you’ve looked at it already. It’s important to discuss what we each want to get out of this, you know? So, do you have any idea of anything you’re… particularly interested in? Anything you particularly want to try?” 

Jon sits there for a moment, considering.

“I’m not entirely certain. I’ve had very limited experience with this… area, aside from doing some reading online. I know that I am interested in, well, submission. Though I suppose that’s obvious.” 

Martin nods, smiles a little, “right, yeah. Did figure as much. Odd choice of asking a pro dom otherwise.”

He pauses for a second before continuing, “Though I feel like I should ask… what kind of submission are you looking for, then? If you have any idea?”

Jon looks particularly caught off guard at the question, so Martin keeps speaking.

“So, some people are more interested in following orders, and the guidance that comes from that. Some are more interested in playing a role, or a part. Some like the push and pull of submission, of testing doms, of having a safe space to disobey sometimes, where the consequences stay inside the scene.”

“Wait - you said playing a role? Is this whole thing not… in some way, I guess, a role?” Jon asks.

“Right, yeah, but there’s a difference between, say, specifically acting submissive or dominant, versus pet play, where people like to act as a dog or a pet, for example. There’s other forms of roleplay as well -” 

“Like a dog?” Jon cuts Martin off, incredulous.

“Yes, Jon. Some people like the freedom that comes from pretending to be an animal. I’ve heard it can be quite relaxing, it was never really my kink, but I had some clients who were interested. The core tenets of the scene are the same, so it’s not too different for me. I’ll take it you’re not interested, then? I could see you looking so dashing with a tail.” Martin smirks at the end, and Jon’s entire face seems to heat up.

“I- no. Not. Right now at least. I am… that is not something I am interested in. At all.” 

Martin laughs a bit, “of course. We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. But, I would like to know what exactly you’re trying to get out of this scene, then? If there’s anything that interests you, specifically?”

“Really, Martin? I thought you were the expert in this? What, you’re not good enough just to know, then? I thought you would have some sense of what I wanted.” Jon snaps, frowning. He doesn’t wish to be rude, but the constant prodding questions… well, to put simply, were making him quite uncomfortable.

Martin’s shoulders stiffen slightly in response, relaxed demeanour gone for the moment. When he speaks, his voice is hard and Jon feels himself sit up a bit straighter in response. “No, Jon. I am not a mind reader. I cannot possibly know what you are trying to get out of a scene, what kinds of things you like, and what you would want me to do to you. I’ve got some sense of general things people try in beginner scenes, and I’ve got a lot of experience in a good number of things people are interested in, but I am not able to predict exactly what kind of scene you’d like. This is why it is important to communicate, Jon.”

Martin’s response feels, well, chastising, and Jon flushes more and nods, “right, yes. I’m sorry, Martin.” 

Martin smiles, relaxes again, takes another sip of his tea. “It’s important you understand this, Jon. This is for both of us. Not just for you. I need to be sure I’m going to be able to create a scene that you like, do something that is good for both of us.”

“I understand.” Jon responds, and then pauses for a moment before continuing. “I think I have some interest in being tied up. I suppose. That was something that interested me as I was reading. Also… I think I would be interested in… well, impact play.” 

By now, he is certain that his face is either on fire or about to ignite, and cannot wait until Martin has to give a statement to whoever replaces him as head archivist about the “man whose face spontaneously lit on fire” incident.

Martin beams at Jon’s admission, however, and it feels far less humiliating once he sees the approval on Martin’s face. 

“Great! That’s good! There is, of course, some differences between things people hypothetically might like and reality, but having a sense of it is always very useful. Thank you for sharing that with me, Jon.” Martin says, and Jon smiles a bit in response. 

“This is… a very good starting spot. I’m glad you have an idea of the things you’d like to do. Is there anything particularly off limits, for you? Personally, I’m not a big fan of anything coming out of the body except for reasonable amounts of spit or cum - not that it’s going to get there, just like, in general!” Martin’s face grows flushed as he talks. “And it’s certainly been too long since I’ve been trained on using knives for me to feel comfortable doing anything with knife or blood play, at least for now.”

Jon’s eyes grow a bit wide at the end of that sentence, “I think I’m not particularly interested in anything to do with blood, necessarily. It feels a bit too similar to the sorts of things I hear about. I think I would prefer this to not be… sexual. I suppose I’m drawn to this because of the more… meditative aspects. The idea of being taken out of my head, as some had said is rather enticing.” 

Martin nods, “right, yeah. That’s fine - good, even! Most don’t expect this but I actually never had sex with anyone, during a scene? It wasn’t sexual. Less risky that way, honestly. And could be a bit easier to rent places too, though honestly, not much. Plus you’re certainly not the first person interested in non-sexual kink, regardless.” 

Simply hearing that calms Jon a bit - he’d been worried, not hugely, but that there would be some extra expectation. Some assumption about what he wanted since he was asking. It was nice, it seemed as though Martin made refreshingly few assumptions.

“Okay, great, so, not sexual, got that. Is there some way I should avoid touching you, then? I would probably stay away from your cock and balls, then. But what about other places, other touches. Bites, slapping, those kinds of things. Should I stay away from your nipples, or are they okay?”

“Ah I’m… yes. I think biting is okay. I- so is kissing, if you want to?” Jon’s face heats up again, though he isn’t certain if he’s gone any point in this conversation without some simmering embarrassment. The admission of _kissing_ comes out so quickly though, without him thinking and he feels… an odd mix of anticipation and dread pooling within him. Should’ve just kept his mouth closed, frankly. Wasn’t thinking, though, was just thinking about things he would like in a _scene_ not in a _scene with Martin._

He counts to three in his head, closes his eyes and takes a breath, and continues, eyes now trained on the wall in front of him, dutifully ignoring whatever Martin’s expression might show. “I don’t think I mind you touching my nipples, though I can’t imagine they’d be a great focus. I uh. I think slapping might be interesting. Most other touching is fine, good, maybe. I can’t… I’ve not had a huge amount of experience.”

At this point, Jon hesitantly takes a look at Martin, who is still sitting in what now looks like a faux relaxed pose on the couch, face cleverly hidden mostly by a cup of tea that… Jon thinks he might have been drinking from for quite a while now. 

Eventually, he sets the cup down, Jon notices that his face is still a bit red but, well, it isn’t as though he has much room to talk.

“Okay, that’s very useful information. Thank you for sharing, Jon.” the words are a bit strained, but as he continues he seems to relax slightly, slipping back into the persona he’s crafted.

“So, another important piece of information is the concept of safewords, which I’m not sure if you’ve heard of before?”

“Yes, Martin. I’ve heard of safewords before. I told you, I’ve done my research.”

“Oh, done your research, have you? What kind of research, then?” Martin smirks at the end of his sentence. 

Jon stammers a response, “Just - I just wanted - It was just some websites, I didn’t want to come talk to you knowing nothing. There’s some very informative websites, you know. And I can’t imagine it being a surprise of me researching - I am the Head Archivist, you know.”

Martin laughs, “right, yeah. Head Archivist. I’m sure that when Elias hired you, he was really just confident that your researching ability would come in handy when discovering new kinks you might have.”

Jon groans, puts his face in his hands and leans forward onto his knees, “Martin can we _please_ not talk about Elias. I’ll say he’s a limit. I do not want to talk about our boss during a scene.”

Martin chuckles some more, “right, sorry. That’s understandable. We will avoid talking about Elias. But, seriously, I’m glad you’ve heard of safewords, and seem, well, relatively well receptive to it. They’re very important, I’m not willing to do anything without them.”

“Yes, that makes sense. I understand.”

“Great! Good. Okay, so, I tend to use the traffic light system. Red for stop, yellow for pausing, and green for everything being good to go. I mean, I like the idea of a specific word well enough, the concept is… nice. But, for our first meeting I think it would make the most sense to stick to something simple.”

Jon nods, “I agree. I’ve read a bit about this traffic light system. It sounds very reasonable.”

Martin smiles. “Okay, nice. So, I don’t know if there’s much more we necessarily need to cover, then? I mean, unless there’s something else you want to discuss, of course. I’m not, y’know, trying to kick you out or anything.”

“Ah, no. I understand. I don’t think there’s anything else. I’m not… very familiar with it all… so I’m not sure if I might be missing something. Nothing comes to mind, however.”

“Oh, that’s fine! I mean, the whole point of negotiation is just to get a sense of what to do - not to, say, plan out the entire scene. Otherwise we’d be here for the entire night. And,” Martin smirks a little bit, leans forward slightly, and Jon hopes very hard that the slight hitch in his breathing is not noticeable as Martin’s eyes gleam ever so slightly brighter, “it certainly wouldn’t be fun if you knew everything that was happening, now would it, Jon? Some anticipation is good.”

Jon simply sits there for a moment, trying to find the words to respond, body thuming with anticipation, excitement. It is a feeling he is… frankly not too familiar with. 

“I…” he starts, stops, pauses. Martin’s smile grows wider, a bit softer, but he doesn’t really lean back, and Jon feels this almost enticing urge to make himself appear a bit smaller in response. Jon clears his throat before continuing, “That’s fine, that’s… good. Is there uh. A certain day that we should do this, then?” 

At that, Martin leans back slightly and Jon relaxes, the tension dropping. “Right, scheduling. I was thinking possibly next Saturday, if that works? I’d like to give you some time to think, I’ve got to get some supplies ready as well. And I wouldn’t want to distract you from work, of course.” 

On instinct, that feels too long, a length of time that Jon cannot possibly fathom waiting. But, in the end, after waiting so long to simply talk to Martin in the first place, he figures he can wait another week. The day works, of course. It isn’t as though he has much else going on in his life, outside of work. 

“Yes, that works for me. I can just come here, then? I figure this is where you’ll have most of your… equipment.” 

Martin nods, “yeah, here would be good. I was thinking possibly 7? Sometimes these scenes can last a while, the extra time could be nice. And, yeah, you can just come here, that’s fine. I’d really recommend you eat something… well, at all, frankly. Before coming here. Scenes can sometimes really take it out of you. We wouldn’t want you passing out, or anything.”

Jon hmms in agreement, “yes, alright.” He pauses, for a second. “Just… one last thing though. Is this… is this something you’re interested in doing as well? I would really rather not pressure you into doing anything, and I know that even with these power dynamics at play, I still am your boss, and I hope you’re not doing anything because you feel like you have to, I certainly wouldn’t want -”

“Oh! No, no, I certainly don’t feel… pressured by you! At all! You should understand, I was doing this on my own, far before I met you. And while I mean, the pay helped, it certainly wasn’t something I was doing for simply that. I enjoy the work. It’s… fun. It’s relaxing, in a way, planning and executing a scene. I… am definitely interested in doing this with you, Jon.” Martin says, and at the end blushes a little. 

“Ah, okay. That’s good then. I’m… glad to hear it. I’m looking forward to it.” Jon replies, now blushing as well.

They both look away, for a bit, dutifully staring at the wall for a moment before Martin finally clears his throat, and begins standing up, Jon immediately standing up as well. 

“Right! Okay, so if there’s nothing else, I’m, well, it has gotten rather late, and I know that you tend to function on very little sleep, but unfortunately I tend to need a decent amount.”

Startled, Jon looks at the time, surprised slightly when he sees it having already hit nearly midnight. “Oh! Right! Sorry, I hadn’t noticed, of course. I’ll uh, be on my way, then?” he says, and begins moving towards the doorway to get his things.

As he puts on his shoes he hears Martin in the kitchen, rinsing out the cups and placing them in the dishwasher. The taps shut off and he hears Martin’s footsteps approaching behind him.

Jon finishes tying his shoelaces, slips on his coat and slings on his backpack onto one shoulder, before turning around to awkwardly face Martin. “Right, so, I’ll… see you tomorrow, then?” he says.

Martin smiles slightly in response, “yeah! Yeah, I mean, we do work together, after all. But this has been… nice, I’ve enjoyed it.” 

“Right, I’ve enjoyed it too, Martin. Thank you, for doing this for me.” Jon says.

He turns to open the door now, but as he does he hears Martin say behind him, “Oh, Jon? One last thing.”

Jon turns back around and faces Martin. 

“I forgot to say earlier - I’d really appreciate it if you stayed overnight, on Saturday. These scenes can be very… draining at times, and I’d really rather you didn’t leave at night, on your own. The sofa can be a decent bed, if you don’t want to share.”

“Oh, yes, that makes sense. I’ll… bring some things with me, then.”

Martin smiles, and they finally say their goodbyes and Jon turns and leaves the flat, the door clicking shut behind him. He doesn’t let himself think about what they’ve just discussed, until finally he reaches the tube stop, sits down on the train that is going in the direction of his flat, puts his face in his hands, sighing in exasperation.

He is certainly excited. This was something that had been plaguing his mind for so long now, and it was, at the very least, a relief to have this actually be happening. But, as the train screeches below him, he thinks of Martin’s smile, how his face looked when he blushed, how his fingers gripped the handle of the tea cup, and he hopes that he is not about to make this into something it most certainly is not. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! we'll get to the scene next chapter, and hopefully that one won't take as long to get out, but, well, you never know.   
> (food for thought - while writing this, i started to wonder how much kink culture has become... somewhat ingrained in like, fanfics? or perhaps its always kind of been there. but i was just, like, safewords, right? do people just know what safewords are nowadays? no idea. thought about this perhaps, too much...)


End file.
